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When I eventually reach the top, I haul in air, fighting to fill my starving lungs. Bastet meows at me, urging me to hurry. Sighing, I drag myself to the two heavily engraved golden doors that guard the entrance to the pyramid. Pulling the chain from my neck, I unhook the final disk and press it into the indent made for it. Just like the gates earlier, they swing open on their own, a cool breeze rushing out to greet me.
I ignore the touch of fear that tugs at me, the aching thought of never seeing Cassian again. The Fates have led me here, and if this is where I meet my end, so be it. I will greet my destiny with honor, not cowardice.
Sucking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders and step over the threshold, the doors slamming shut behind me.
Chapter 32
Snow White
Istartleatthesound of the doors closing behind me. The sparse anteroom I find myself in holds no decoration, nothing to soften the harsh edges of the stone walls and floor. The air, so much cooler than outside, has a mustiness to it that makes my nostrils twitch. My pulse races as I stare at the rectangular doorways hewn into each of the three walls. I flick my gaze between the three, unknowing which to choose. Bastet wandered off too quickly for me to take note of where she went.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I blow out a breath and make my choice. The moment I step through the middle doorway, torches flicker to life and the scent of spiced orange and clove incense invades my senses. The flickering glow of the fires reflect off the hammered gold ceiling, the light lovingly caressing the statues that line the left side of the corridor.
Carved from marble, pharaohs old and new stand at attention, interspersed with large black urns containing potted palms. I slowly make my way down the sloping hall, the statues’ eyes seeming to follow me as if already passing judgment. I wonder if they find me lacking.
The corridor turns right sharply, and I follow the ramps farther and farther down. A chilly breeze comes out to play, tugging my hair and clothes, encouraging me to accompany it. A shiver runs over my shoulders, and I’m grateful I didn’t remove and discard any of my clothes earlier.
Bastet waits for me at the bottom, watching me with solemn eyes. Running my hand over the soft fur on her head, I ask, “Where to now?”
She lifts her back and turns, her tail swishing in a hypnotizing sway as she leads me into a large room. Like the anteroom, the core of the pyramid is fully laid out in stone. The floor has been worn smooth by the thousands of travelers who have come this way. Hundreds of torches set the wall on the right ablaze, their light enough to send any shadows scampering to hide in the corners. To the left, platforms built out of the wall host dozens of seats, a railing separating each section, with steep stairs to the side providing access to each level. A small doorway sits to the left of the seating area, partially draped off by a burgundy curtain.
The one in front of me, however, holds double doors a good fifty feet high. Again, made of gold and carved with a number of designs. The doorway pulses with a glowing light, matching the steady rhythm of my heart.
In the center of the room, resting on top of a golden circle inlaid into the stone floor, sits a throne, the back of which must be at least eight feet tall. Made entirely of obsidian bone, the backrest consists of ribs while thigh bones have been melded together to form the legs and seat. Two golden human skulls adorn the very edge of the armrest, grinning obscenely at me as if eagerly awaiting my sentence.
A narrow podium stands in front of the throne, a silver scale resting on its surface. Bastet urges me toward the circle, and when I step into it, the edges flare with light. Inhaling a sharp breath, I unwittingly try to step back, but find myself frozen, some kind of magic holding me in place. Bastet disappears through the small doorway, and I’m left on my own, nervously plucking at the hem of my doublet.
Minutes pass, my anxiety ramping up with each ticking second. I startle when a booming gong shatters the silence, my head whipping to the side at the sound of rustling clothing and soft footsteps. I gulp audibly at the sight of dozens of black-robed figures taking their seats, my nerves begging me to run from the fate that will soon become me. I couldn’t anyway, even if I wanted to—the holding spell is too strong. The levels fill up quickly until no seat is left empty.
Once they are seated, a figure strides in confidently. His bare chest gleams in the torchlight, while a short kilt swishes around his powerful thighs. He’s tall and muscular with the body of a man and the head of a jackal. An ankh necklace adorns his neck, and elegantly curved gold armbands circle his biceps. I recognize him immediately from my studies as a youth, as all children are taught about the gods.Anubis.
He turns, placing his hands on each side of the podium as he regards me. The throne behind him seems to almost melt into the background as if being consumed by shadows that shouldn’t exist due to the wall of torches. I can’t focus on that mystery when my gaze locks with Anubis’s. The amber orbs assess me, then he inclines his head. “Princess Snow White, welcome to the Hall of Final Judgment.”
I bow my head, a sense of calm finality settling over me. “Thank you for receiving me, my lord.”
Anubis throws an arm out, gesturing toward the forty-two cloaked figures in the stands. “You stand before me and the judges, and we are ready to hear your case. We shall now listen to your confessions.”
Letting my eyes fall closed, I exhale a deep breath, allowing the forty-two negative confessions to run through my mind. I cannot, in good faith, claim all of them, but once I have them prepared, I lift my head, open my eyes, and speak clearly.
“My lords, I stand before you not as a picture of perfection, but one of imperfection. I do not come to offer false witness, but to lay at your feet the sins I have not committed, to be weighed against the ones I have.” The evaluators sit quietly as they watch me from the depths of their hoods. “I have not told lies,” I begin, a silent strength running through me. One of the judges leans forward as if determining the truth of my statement. “I have not cursed a god, nor struck terror. I have wronged none, and done no evil.” My voice stays strong and true as I continue to list the sins I have not committed. When I am finished, my shoulders slump slightly, relieved to have spoken my truths.
The congregation murmurs amongst themselves, and I do my best to calm my nerves. It doesn’t matter how woefully unprepared I am for this, how much I yearn to return to Cassian and save Valderán from Morana’s clutches. All I can do is pray the gods might find mercy and help my kingdom and my people.
While the judges continue to debate, too quietly for me to hear, I allow myself to feel the loss of the man I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with. I hadn’t been able to process it as I traveled through the underworld to arrive here, but now that I have nothing to do as I await my verdict, I feel his loss keenly, the grief burning through me while my heart twists painfully in my chest.
During our first separation, I at least knew he was out there in the world. Jealousy brought intrusive thoughts of other women, insisting he would forget about me and never return. As abhorrent as that thought was to me, knowing he was alive and happy somewhere offered me a little comfort, even if I pretended to hate him and wanted to tear at the fictitious women with claws.
And now, I have left him. Unwillingly, yes, but the result is the same. All because I didn’t trust my instincts when they tried to warn me when I took the poisoned apple from Morana. Everything he went through to get back to me was for nothing, and everything I suffered was in vain. Not only have I lost my best friend and love, but my kingdom as well.
An agonizing pain tears through me, rending my soul in two. If I were able to move, I would be lying prostrate on the floor. Waves of devastation pound into me, over and over, closing off my throat as I scramble to breathe.
It’s always been you, Snow.
I clamp my mouth shut on the keening wail that so desperately wants to breach my tightened lips.I’m so sorry, Cassian. Forgive me.
“Enough!” a deep voice demands. The room falls silent, the torches dim, and the spell that holds me in place shatters. My knees wobble from the onslaught of loss, and I collapse to the floor.
Shadows swirl around the throne and the torches blaze with the might of a thousand suns. Squinting against the harsh glare, I throw a hand over my eyes. Horror at my loss of dignity in front of the God of the Underworld consumes me, mixing with my grief until I’m nothing more than a puddle of raw emotion.
